


Republic City Nights

by Anonymous



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual Kink, Fire Lord Zuko, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Smut, Sokka just wants to de-stress the Fire Lord, Spanking, Trust, Zuko has a hard time choosing between pride and pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-07-19 06:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19969213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Zuko has an itch he's reluctant to admit, and Sokka is more than happy to find a way to scratch it. Or the other way around. Trust is the keyword. Fun and games.





	1. How to de-stress the Fire Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Still, there is something about the way Zuko stands there, back slightly arched, his bottom thrust out just to the point of plausible deniability that makes Sokka reconsider the evidence. 
> 
> What if there is an alternative theory? And being the science guy, Sokka wants to test that theory."

Sokka kisses the tight jawline, working his way towards the sensitive spot at the crook of Zuko’s neck, fingering the soft black silk of his hair. It's his best game, but he can tell that Zuko isn’t into it. His head is somewhere else, probably still stuck in that damned conference room.

“I just don’t understand, why they are so hostile to this idea,” Zuko scoffs and pulls himself away from Sokka’s touch. He jumps to his feet and starts pacing around the room. 

Sokka leans back with a sigh. He is so sick of politics. Yes, he thinks what Zuko and Aang are doing is important. Sure, he wants to help. But the meetings are painful, full of pompous assholes who are not interested in solutions, only in creating more problems. “Because they are jerks. They don’t like that a couple of kids try to redraw their hate-divided little world.”

“We are not kids anymore,” Zuko retorts, the ripple of his tight muscles as he stands there clad just in a pair of loose silk pants, underpins his point. He is 21 and achingly gorgeous. Sokka glances in the mirror - he is not the scrawny kid he used to be either. His upper body has filled out, morphing slowly towards the physique of his father. Great Water Tribe Genes, he smiles at his own reflection encouragingly not letting himself be bummed by the fact that Zuko would rather talk about finance plans than fuck him senseless like he is supposed to do. 

“We are kids to them,” he shrugs. He really doesn't want to waste more time on pompous idiots.

“There must be something else we can do,” Zuko frowns stepping closer to the desk. He's pulling out thick scrolls from the drawer, covering the desk in a paper-mountain.

Sokka puts his hand on the flailing arms to stay them. “Zuko. Stop spinning. You’ve been beating your head against this the whole week, offering compromise after compromise. Now is the time to step back and let them come to you. And until then,” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at the giant bed covered in soft cotton sheets. 

“I can rework this once more,” Zuko protests, yanking his arms free.

“You have worked every single night this last week. You need to rest.” Sokka plants himself firmly in front of the desk, putting his body between Zuko and stupid work. If Zuko is trying to kill himself with exhaustion, well, he has Sokka to contend with. 

“No. Give me the financial plan. Maybe we can go over it again,” Zuko tries to duck around him and reach the papers, his stomach leaning flat over the table. 

“Stop,” Sokka snatches the scroll before Zuko can reach it and swats Zuko’s butt playfully with the rolled up parchment. _Smack._ Zuko goes very still, eyes closed, lips slightly parted and Sokka for a moment panics that he managed to trigger him again with some horrible bullshit his asshole father tortured him with as a kid. Zuko's psyche is a fucking minefield of bottled up hurts which often turns sex night into tearful therapy sessions with snotty handkerchiefs and calming jasmine tea. It is flattering to be his shoulder to cry on, but Sokka is horny and he has other plans tonight. 

“Zuko, you ok?” he asks worried that he's screwed up everything.

Zuko doesn't reply. Instead, he walks over to the window, and places his palms flat on the sill, taking a couple of deep breaths. Probably to calm himself. So he wouldn’t go off in a temper tantrum, lips aflame, nostrils smoking. Sokka is kind of torn about those angry outbursts, because Zuko can be scary but also so tantalizingly hot when he breathes fire. (He remembers vividly that incident in the Boiling Rock that awakened in him unknown new desires).

Still, there is something about the way he stands there, back slightly arched, his bottom thrust out just to the point of plausible deniability that makes Sokka reconsider the evidence. 

What if there is an alternative theory? And being the science guy, Sokka wants to test that theory. He steps closer and smacks the scroll again across Zuko’s tight ass, curving so enticingly under his silk pants. Just a hint harder, but still within the bounds of playful messing around. “You hear me, Jerkbender?”

Zuko swallows a gasp, but keeps still. Sokka watches him trying to wrestle for control over his own body, but there are little parts that rebel against him. The way his tongue darts in between his lips, his eyelids close heavily and a pink flush blooms on his cheek travelling down to his neck. All telltale signs of sweet-musky Zuko arousal. _Interesting. Maybe there is a way to make him forget politics for a moment._

Sokka leans closer and whispers in Zuko’s ear huskily. “If that’s how you want to play it tonight, all you have to do is ask.” 

Zuko swallows hard. Sokka smooths his palm over the perfect round flesh and Zuko muffles a moan wiggling his butt against Sokka’s hand, trying to increase friction. His obvious want is a huge turn-on. _Also, how did Sokka never notice that he was into this?_

_The bastard!_ After 3 years of fucking regularly in conference back rooms, broom closets, hunting lodges, he still has parts he keeps closed off from Sokka. Fantasies he's never shared. Sokka is equal amounts pissed off and curious how deep this current runs.

“All you have to do is ask, and I”ll spank your perfect ass until it is redder than your Fire Lord robes. And when I'm done, I’ll fuck your brains out until you scream,” Sokka whispers into Zuko’s ears as he keeps working the muscles of his butt-cheeks with tantalizingly light strokes. Just a ghost of a touch against the smooth silk. Every time Zuko tries to wiggle closer, Sokka pulls back, keeping his distance. _Not so fast._ His fingertips are purposefully slow. “Does that sound good to you?”

Zuko’s jaws tighten like whenever he is asked to make an impossible decision. There is another loud swallow and a silent nod, still all within the bounds of plausible deniability. 

Sokka chuckles mirthlessly and pulls away his hands all together. “You have to do better than that, love. Tell me what you want,” he repeats.

Anger and hurt flash in Zuko’s eyes. “You know what? Screw this, Sokka. I’m not your fucking toy,” Zuko pushes himself away from the window. 

Sokka wonders if he overplayed his hand and pushed Zuko too hard, too fast out of his comfort zone. On the other hand, comfort zones are over-rated. Exploration is what move things forward. And Zuko is a complex puzzle he's still trying to solve. It is time to give Zuko another option, an acceptable compromise for surrender. But hiding is not acceptable. Not anymore.

Luckily, Sokka is the plan guy. “Fine. If you don’t want to say it, then show it. Go over to the bed."

After a beat of hesitation, Zuko walks over to the bed and sits at the edge primly, ember eyes looking at Sokka with a mix of defiance and desire. 

Sokka shakes his head. “Not like that. On all fours. Show me your gorgeous ass.”

Zuko grimaces and sighs heavily. He shakes his head with a forlorn look. 

“I can’t. It’s unbecoming of the Fire Lord. It's...wrong.”

Sokka doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He settles for annoyed. It’s not like they haven’t fucked in that position countless times before. Zuko is being ridiculous, putting stupid and needless boundaries of propriety. Who cares what anyone would think? There is nobody here just the two of them. And as far as Sokka is concerned, Zuko's fantasy is hot. Sokka stands in front of his friend, hands on hips. 

“Zuko, fuck being the Fire Lord. You give everything to them already. This is for you. For us. Let yourself be real with me.” He lifts Zuko’s chin until the molten gold eyes are looking straight into his. “You know you can trust me, Zuko, right? I want to know all of you. You remember when you jumped over a fucking boiling lake because you knew I'd catch you? It’s me, Sokka. I have no hidden agenda. There are no rules here, only the ones we make. Work with me.”

Zuko closes his eyes and slowly, very slowly turns around and crawls on the bed, on all fours, his magnificent ass in full display for Sokka. The sight is maddening. Sokka feels his cock twitch in raw want. But another part of him wants to sob because Zuko let himself be this vulnerable with him and it is a fucking big deal. It is a leap of faith and Sokka is determined to make it worthwhile for Zuko. 

OoO

Fucking Sokka, thinks Zuko as he lowers his face burning with shame on his arms. This is beyond humiliating. He hates how his needy ass seems to have its own will, as it waits all a-tingle for those promised smacks, aching for Sokka’s touch. His cock twitches in agreement, tensing painfully against his silk pants. 

Sokka yanks down Zuko’s pants, leaving it pooling inelegantly at his knees. It is a weird feeling, but not unpleasant. The cool night breeze brushes over his exposed ass, making the skin and muscles twitch with maddening anticipation. He glances over to the mirror. Sokka positioned him on purpose so he can see himself with buttocks lifted, back arched like a fucking polar dog in heat. A part of him wants to get up, pin Sokka to the bed and punish him for playing his stupid games. But another part wants to feel that sweet smack again. His senses scream for that exquisite place where pain and pleasure bleed into ecstasy. His needy ass wins the argument for now, and Zuko waits.

“Ready?” Sokka asks his hands resting lightly on Zuko's hips. 

Zuko grunts his agreement and tenses his muscles as the first sharp slap comes down with a mix of stinging pain and warm pleasure on his left butt-cheek. It's good, even better than he imagined, but not enough. His right cheek spasms, aching for the same sensation.

“Such a greedy ass,” Sokka grins watching Zuko’s face intently in the mirror, and brings down his arm again, this time getting the other side of the flesh. Both sides stinging equally feels better, more balanced. But it's not enough. It barely scratches the itch. Zuko wants more. Instead of more, Sokka caresses Zuko’s butt at a leisurely pace, as if it was a delicate pet. Zuko wiggles against him, groaning in frustration, worried that Sokka will just stop now, leave him hanging with want and need. 

Sokka laughs, biting playfully into his flesh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.” _Or makes him beg._

“More,” Zuko snaps. When Sokka just arches his eyebrows, he adds more quietly. “Please.” _Yeah, fine, he'll beg. Whatever. He can't stop now._

Sokka smirks and Zuko swears to himself that he will make his cocky Water Tribe ass pay for this. He can't plot his revenge though as Sokka brings down his palm in quick succession a few times, slapping Zuko’s buttocks sharper, starting from the top, all the way to the sensitive spot where curve meets his upper thigh. He feels his flesh quivering helplessly under the assault. Zuko lets out a small yelp as his mind starts to clear of swirling thoughts, focusing only on the stinging feeling and the warmth that pools in his core, turning his insides into jelly. 

Sokka is back with caressing Zuko’s ass again, his fingers tracing softly the path of the blows. He keeps talking, his words pouring oil on the fire of Zuko's arousal. “That’s better. Show me, so I can see how much you want it. And I’ll give it to you, Zuko. Anything you ask for, love.” 

The flame flares up in his stomach and Zuko arches his back even more, watching Sokka’s sparkling blue eyes in the mirror. It is like the ocean and he wants to let go and submerge himself in the soothing coolness. He wants to disappear in the quiet, drowning out annoying conferences, meetings, endless responsibilities. He wants the waves to wash away his shame. Just the two of them naked with want, free of rules. 

S _urrender is never an option, he reminds himself._ He scowls at Sokka in defiance. Maybe being punished for his weakness would be more acceptable than begging for it. “Are you going to talk, Water Tribe or are you going to make good on those promises you made?”

Sokka’s eyes sparkle in response and his hand comes down hard in a loud slap. Zuko feels his flesh trembling, warming up with beautiful red stinging pain. Then it comes down again and again in a relentless rhythm. The pleasure arrives on the heels of the sting every time Sokka withdraws his hand. Sweat breaks out all over his body. Zuko feels the tip of his cock getting wet and suddenly that part of him is screaming for attention too. His entire core feels like a bubbling volcano.

Sokka keeps talking as the slaps come raining down, his voice low, punctuated by the loud claps of thunder as his hand makes contact with Zuko's skin, filling him with sensory overload of arousal. “You are all majestic to the world, but here with me, you are a little slut propping his ass up in the air, asking for more and more. So greedy. So hot. This belongs to nobody but me. I want to see you open, I want to make you unravel.”

He makes a dramatic pause, hand raised high, muscles flexed, motionless like a statue. Zuko sucks in a breath in anticipation.

“I want to hear you scream, Zuko.” 

_Make me,_ Zuko thinks, clamping his mouth shut.

It comes down much harder than any hit before, the impact knocking the breath out of Zuko. Hot-white pain fills his overtired brain burning the clutter of worries and problems like wildfire. The world slows down. Nothing matters, but the burning sensation. 

“Too much?” Sokka asks gently, with a hint of worry.

Zuko shakes his head. “No,” he croaks. He wants more. _Agni,_ he wants to go all the way to the explosion. 

Sokka delivers another forceful blow, and this time Zuko screams, letting go of shame and stress, releasing weeks of tension. 

“There you go... Just let it all out,” Sokka pats his burning ass gently with one hand, while with the other he fists Zuko’s long hair, twisting it around his wrist, making the base of Zuko's skull tingle pleasantly. Sokka yanks Zuko's head back until his throat is exposed, making the arch of his back almost painful. The face that stares back from the mirror is his own, but also that of a stranger; skin flushed, eyes hazy, lips swollen, forehead beading with sweat, a line of saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth. It's a bizarre sight, but he is beyond pride, beyond caring. All that matters is his burning butt and aching cock. 

Sokka puts his palm on Zuko’s throat, like a predator. Zuko feels his throbbing pulse echo against the touch. It should fill him with alarm, instead he leans into it in surrender. Sokka keeps talking in the mirror. “So beautiful. So perfectly undone. Just you and me, and no more barriers. Your tight ass is so red, so ready and I can’t wait. It's so improbably hot, so ready to combust. You defy the rules of science, Zuko. My cock is bursting to be inside that magnificent heat of yours. Tell me, love, are you ready to be fucked?”

“Yeah,” Zuko manages to moan, his voice alien to his own ears. Sokka lets go of his hair, and Zuko rests his spinning head against his arms. 

Sokka kneads his aching butt-cheeks, interrupting it with playful little smacks that echo with the memory of the earlier sharp pain. It further heightens Zuko’s senses. So alive, so in the moment. His cock is twitching uncontrollably now, so Zuko reaches down to release the unbearable tension. He cries out when Sokka slaps him hard. “Don’t be so impatient. You’ll get your release.” 

Zuko puts his hand back in front of him, flat against the bed. He growls in frustration, “Then just get on with it, Sokka.”

“Get on with what?” he asks with fake innocence as his fingers are working Zuko’s hole, loosening the entrance. _Fucking Sokka, he clearly enjoys this_. 

“For fucks sake, Water Tribe, just fuck me,” Zuko snarls impatiently. If this counts as begging, so be it. His entire body is wound tight with raw want. He needs his release. 

“As you wish. I told you, you get everything you want. Especially when you ask this nicely.” Sokka pulls out his fingers and shoves his cock into Zuko’s ass, stretching it uncomfortably. The pain travels up Zuko’s spine to the back of his skull. Sokka moves slowly, but Zuko doesn't want slow. He pushes back violently against Sokka, dictating a new, faster pace. Sokka complies and their bodies are slamming into each other in a vigorous, primal dance. 

Zuko feels just a hint of triumph as after a few pumps Sokka’s face starts to come apart in the mirror with pleasure. The cocky bastard finally lost control. It makes him feel better that he's just as turned on as Zuko is. Sokka’s movements become jerkier and Zuko’s hand reaches back to give friction to his aching cock. Sokka doesn't say anything this time. Their loud pants and moans fill the room. Zuko watches with fascination as Sokka’s features distort into an animalistic grimace of his oncoming pleasure. Just before his eyes roll over, he brings down his hand with a final loud smack against Zuko’s ass yelling “Now!”

The pain and pleasure collide violently as Zuko bucks against his fist. His vision explodes in hot flashes as he erupts, spilling over the sheet, the throbbing of his orgasm mirrored by Sokka’s pulsing cock inside his sore ass. Broken fragments of sensation everywhere. Pulsing, burning, hot, aching - like the most beautiful fire.

He collapses on the bed spent, sore and ... calm. Calmer than he felt in a long time. Sokka climbs on top of him, covering Zuko like a heavy blanket. It feels good. It feels safe. It feels like trust.

Sokka chuckles into Zuko’s ear, his breath tickling his earlobe. Zuko grabs his wrist and breathes a soft kiss on his palm. It looks as raw as his butt-cheeks feel.

“How do you feel?” Sokka murmurs as he smooths gently Zuko’s sweat-soaked hair to the side.

Zuko takes stock of his aching flesh, his trembling muscles, his spent cock. He is sore everywhere. He also hasn’t felt this good in a long time. “I feel good. Relaxed."

"Great." Sokka slides off of Zuko. He immediately protests the loss of contact with a whimper.

A sloppy, wet kiss lands on his neck as a consolation prize. "You're like a fucking furnace, Zuko."

"Still can't take the heat?" Zuko teases and their lips find each other in clumsy, tired, happy kisses. 

Sokka pulls back, cups his face; his lips inches away from Zuko's. 

“Don’t hide from me, Zuko. Anytime you need something, want something, you can tell me. No matter how scary the jump, I’ll catch you,” Sokka's voice is wet with emotion that makes Zuko's throat tighten too as he drinks in the words. He never knew it was possible to feel this close to someone. 

“I know,” Zuko whispers. In this crazy, mad world, Sokka is his island of sanity. The place where he doesn't have to play a part. Where he is not Fire Lord Zuko, Agni incarnate, but just himself. Zuko, the Jerkbender who is free to be an awkward idiot. He turns to his side, pushing his burning ass against Sokka’s cool, flaccid cock. Sokka puts his hand on the hot flesh and Zuko sighs again in contentment; the soothing touch radiates pleasant warmth all over his body, like a lazy, sunny day on the beach.

“Sokka, thanks. I'm...I'm glad we did that,” Zuko mutters shyly. He doesn't have the words to express everything he feels about this. He just hopes that Sokka will read between the messy lines like he always does. 

“It was my pleasure, Jerkbender. Your bottom is most magnificent. It's the perfect canvas for my art,” Sokka pats his ass playfully.

"Just promise me not to draw on it," Zuko groans, thinking about Sokka's endearingly terrible doodles.

“You're hurting my feelings," Sokka replies with fake indignation. After a beat, he adds more seriously, "Don’t be ashamed of who you are or what you want. Your fantasies turn me on. This gorgeous slut here is the very best part of you. This Zuko belongs only to me and I want to know everything that makes him tick.”

Zuko nods. He has other images he thinks about when he jerks off under his blanket; things that fill him with pleasure when he imagines them, but also make him feel like a freak that he finds them so compelling. Now he thinks that Sokka could find a way to make them feel this good and normal if he could ever work up the courage to share them. _Maybe another time._ For now, Zuko is done thinking. His mind is gloriously empty. 

“Shut up and sleep, Water Tribe,” Zuko mutters drowsily, curling up inside Sokka like a happy owl-cat in a nest. Sleep comes easy.


	2. Gala Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sokka wonders if the lacklustre opera performance is really the reason for the unexpected visit. “So you decided that you’d go roof-running instead.” 
> 
> When Zuko gets restless, he sometimes lets out this other part of him to play. A part that is not the Fire Lord, bound by duty and honour to his country, but a roguish spirit who can roam free. Sokka loves every part of Zuko equally; the fierce leader, the loyal friend, the insecure boy, the tortured soul, but there is nothing quite as thrilling and unpredictable as a rare sighting of the Blue Spirit."

Councilman Sokka squints at the schematics. The new steam locomotive-model is coming along nicely, but some of the details still need tweaking. He makes some corrections on the design with his pencil. The cylinders should be bigger and he is pretty sure that the steam dome is not the right shape. He sketches out a new line - less of square, more of a curve. Engrossed in his work, he doesn’t notice the shadow leaping through the window of his office and sneaking up behind his desk with impossibly soft steps, until he feels the edge of a sword lightly pushing against his neck. Sokka gasps. 

_Make that two swords._

Sokka’s initial fright turns into elation because he would recognize those old, battered blades anywhere. They always evoke memories of sweaty, half-naked duelling sessions that more often than not turned into playful wrestling leaving his muscles sore and his cock aching with insatiable teenage want. 

“Is that a turtleduck?” Zuko sheaths his swords in one fluid motion and sits on Sokka’s desk peeking curiously at the drawing. He is clad in a black ninja outfit that should be illegal on account of increasing his already significant levels of hotness. His long hair is tied in a braid under his hood. 

“It’s a steam dome, Zuko.” Sokka tries to keep his voice neutral, as if his heart wasn’t jumping out of his ribcage in excitement right about now. He wasn’t counting on seeing Zuko until much later this evening. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the grand opening of the opera?” 

Zuko grins like a mischievous kid, dangling his feet from the desk, eyes sparkling like the sun.

“The Firelord is most certainly sitting through the entire rendition of the stirring new piece called the Romance of the Four Kingdoms composed specifically for the Four Nations Festival, but the songs are repetitive, the soprano keeps sliding on the high notes and the pipa player can’t keep the rhythm straight.”

“I still can’t believe you are such a snob when it comes to theater.” It’s a well-known fact about the Fire Lord that he’s not only an enthusiast, but a connoisseur of the performing arts. Troupes from all over the world clamour to get an invitation to the Caldera theater. Sokka wonders if the lacklustre opera performance is really the reason for the unexpected visit. “So you decided that you’d go roof-running instead.” 

When Zuko gets restless, he sometimes lets out this other part of him to play. A part that is not the Fire Lord, bound by duty and honour to his country, but a roguish spirit who can roam free. Sokka loves every part of Zuko equally; the fierce leader, the loyal friend, the insecure boy, the tortured soul, but there is nothing quite as thrilling and unpredictable as a rare sighting of the Blue Spirit. 

“It’s quieter. You should try it someday.” Zuko has offered to take Sokka many times on such night runs, but stealthing and leaping across rooftops is simply not his thing. He’s a man of other talents. Zuko continues, “But don’t worry, I left a perfectly fine body-double with crown and all. Even made sure that the scar is not on the wrong side. We practiced hand-waves and firelord-like clapping. Why are you still in the office anyway?”

He looks around Sokka’s office covered with piles of paper, which is not unlike the paper-mountains in his own palace study. He must feel right at home. 

“You would have no idea how much work is involved with organizing a stupid event with all the dignitaries of the world present,” Sokka says sarcastically and gives Zuko a pointed look. The Four Nations Festival in Republic City is a logistical and security nightmare that stretched the capacity of a city in its infancy to its limits.

“Sounds rough,” Zuko nods sympathetically, without the slightest acknowledgment of the fact that he’s at least a fourth of the headache. 

Before Sokka could explore the _real_ reason behind Zuko’s unexpected (but not unwelcome) appearance, there’s a knock on the door. Sokka frowns. He thought he was alone in the townhall for the night. He gives Zuko a warning look, who catches his meaning and dashes under the desk. 

“Come in,” Sokka calls out unhappily to be interrupted.

Mi Cha, the head of protocol enters, holding a giant rolled up sheet. She’s a strict-looking, no-nonsense lady in her mid-fifties. “Councilman Sokka. So good that I could still find you here. Are you busy?”

Sokka feels a playful touch sneaking up his leg. 

“Actually, I was just finishing something and heading over to the Opera,” Sokka says quickly, because he wants her out of the office right now. Also, protocol. Who cares about stupid protocol when Zuko’s exploring hands have reached his thigh and Sokka hasn’t seen him in a month.

Mi Cha - like the seasoned diplomat she is - disregards Sokka’s dismissal and steps closer to the desk anyway. “I’m afraid we have a dreadful problem with the seating arrangement. King Kuei brought another guest.”

“That doesn’t sound like a big problem,” Sokka waves. “Just squeeze in another chair somewhere.”

“It’s another bear,” Mi Cha announces dramatically. 

“A bear?” Sokka gasps not so much because of the animal but because the warm hands have started caressing his crotch under the material of his pants. No matter how inopportune the moment, his dick responds happily to the touch, filling up his pants. 

“Bosco has a girlfriend,” Mi Cha grimaces as if bears having girlfriends was an egregious offense against protocol.

Sokka is unsure what is the appropriate response, especially because the stroking stops and Zuko’s fingers are undoing the ties of his pants. _Sweet spirits._ Sokka swallows nervously as his cock bobs out free. He kicks Zuko under the table, because it stopped being funny five minutes ago, but it is also unbearably thrilling. 

One of the lesser known facts about the Fire Lord is that he gives excellent head. (Sokka is fairly certain that he’s the only one who knows this). Like amazing-super-best head that blows Sokka away every single time. It should not be called a blow-job, but blow-art. And Sokka definitely wants to be on the receiving end of that particular experience. His heart is hammering in his chest in anticipation.

There is a croaking sound. It’s Mi Cha clearing her throat. _Riiiight_. Thinking about Zuko’s magic made Sokka forget for a minute that she was still in the room and what they were talking about. Some bear-problem. There has to be an easy solution and if Sokka can find it than she’ll be on her way and they can enjoy a few minutes before Zuko has to go back to his Fire Lord duties. 

_Think. Think. Fast._ “The solution is…”

Sokka’s mind blanks, because Zuko’s warm tongue has started lapping leisurely at the tip of his cock and all the blood from his body rushes there. Sokka grabs the rim of his desk to steady himself, because otherwise he’s going to turn into a moaning, panting mess in front of protocol-lady’s eyes.

“Are you ok, Councilman?” Mi Cha asks with worry.

“Yessss,” Sokka hisses because the tongue now starts to work the shaft in swirling movements. “Explain the problem again?” _Why does his voice sound like it just started to crack again?_

Sokka’s problem is of course Zuko’s mouth that goes on full assault, closing around the tip and inching its way down slowly, full of wet, hot twists and twirls. Sokka wants nothing more than lose himself to that magnificent tongue but Mi Cha is stepping closer to the desk, rolling out the seating chart on it. 

“So we have to get Nanxi..” she explains.

“Nanxi?” Sokka squeaks and he’s lost the thread of the conversation a while ago, but now bad-evil-absolutely-no-good Zuko is snickering silently, his merriment vibrating down Sokka’s shaft, into his core, up his spine. His entire body is resonating with Zuko’s soundless laughter and it would be amazing if not for Mi Cha standing there still talking about bears. _Fucking bears._

“The girl bear… To the King’s table, but this means moving someone further down and you know it’s a cascade. And there are a couple of options….”

Her explanations drawn out as Zuko’s hands close on the base of his shaft and his mouth picks up a more steady rhythm. Sokka can’t think, only that he cannot come, not now, not here. He tries to concentrate on something neutral. _Quick, think._ His eyes flicker over to the train schematics. Locomotive engine parts. That will do. _Piston, cylinder, crank shaft, connective rods… This is not helping. Why do all these words sound so incredibly obscene in this very moment?_

Mi Cha is still talking about bears. 

“...so you agree with the last option?”

Sokka has no clue what any of the options were. There is one priority; he needs to get her out of the office before he explodes.

“Absolutely. It’s great. Hurry now and make sure you don’t miss the party,” he urges her, hoping that he didn’t just agree to marrying a bear.

“Are you not coming with us Councilman?” she asks surprised. “We have a carriage ordered.”

“I still have something to finish with the... steam dome,” Sokka swallows a groan as his cock slides all the way into the back of Zuko’s throat. 

“Right. See you there then.” She rolls up the seating arrangement chart. And finally… _fucking finally_ she walks towards the door. _Whew. That was a near miss._ She turns back with a concerned look. “Are you sure you are not running a fever? You are a bit flushed, and your eyes…”

“I’m fine,” Sokka growls now, baring his teeth, ready to bark if she doesn’t leave immediately.

As soon as the door closes, Sokka glances under the table. “What the fuck, Zuko? Why didn’t you stop?”

Zuko lifts his head, making a tantalizingly slow show of Sokka’s cock sliding out of his mouth with a wet pop. Sokka gasps, it’s so fucking hot. 

Zuko sits on his heels and looks at Sokka calmly. “Do you want me to stop?” His twinkling eyes tell a different story, one where he knows exactly the effect he has on Sokka. _Brat._

Sokka’s cock protests the prospect of stopping now by twitching uncontrollably.

“No, you might as well do it,” is what Sokka says. _Please for the love of all spirits, don’t stop now,_ is what he thinks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you well. Do what?” Zuko arches his good eye-brow with an insolent grin.

_Oh, so that’s the game we are playing,_ thinks Sokka. _Zuko is here for revenge._

“Just finish it, Zuko,” Sokka growls impatiently.

“Finish what?” Zuko keeps pushing.

“What you started. Suck me.” Sokka groans. When Zuko only licks his lips in response, he adds on a small voice. “Please.” Fine, he’s being beaten in his own game, on the other hand, if this is what losing feels like, he can totally live with that. 

“Certainly,” Zuko smirks, and lets out a small flame-breath. Sokka moans loudly, because tt looks so hot that his head might explode just from the sight. 

Zuko takes him in his mouth again and spirits, it is even hotter than before. It’s a fucking inferno, ready to consume Sokka alive. He’s more than happy to be burnt.

It doesn’t take much; Zuko increases the pace, his mouth sliding up and down with the kind of single-minded dedication and focus that he applies to every aspect of his life. Sokka can’t keep still, his hips move in time with Zuko’s lips, his hand grasps the black braid like it’s a life-rope and he moans and whimpers as his orgasm washes over him in violent waves. Zuko rides it out with him until the last pulse of his orgasm, his arms wrapped around Sokka’s waist.

When Sokka’s breathing slows, Zuko wipes his mouth and leans back against the desk watching impassively as Sokka ties up his pants. 

Sokka can’t decide whether to thank him for being awesome or yell at him for his recklessness. He decides to do both. “Thank you. That was...great... And incredibly stupid,” he scolds Zuko. As much as he’d want to shout their relationship from the rooftops, he knows that the world is not ready for them. It would be just another thing they’d use against Zuko to undermine him. They’d take something beautiful and pure that belongs to the two of them and twist it into a spectacle, using words like perversion and depravity.

Zuko does not seem to be bothered by the faceless ill-wishers tonight. His eyes glint with playful eagerness, giving Sokka an _a-ha!_ moment. Maybe that was the whole point. Zuko is being bad. Deliberately. Because he wants something. 

Sokka is pretty sure that he’s reading the situation right, when with a sudden move he pushes Zuko face down on the desk and he stays there complacently instead of fighting back. 

“I see.” Sokka smiles. “Someone has an itch again. Tell me, Zuko, did you go into all this trouble because you couldn’t wait until the end of the gala dinner to get your ass spanked.”

Zuko says nothing, but he waits and that’s as good as an admission. Stomach flat on the desk, ass in the air, legs slightly spread. Sokka walks over to the door and bolts it, not wanting to risk another intrusion. Zuko’s eyes follow his movements, but he doesn’t try to move. 

“You certainly deserve it,” Sokka stands behind Zuko, but doesn’t touch him. “So why don’t you bare your ass for me?”

There are no protests, like last time. Zuko pulls down his pants eagerly, and leans forward again, his pale skin exposed in contrast to his dark clothes. Like a perfect canvas waiting to be painted. Sokka leans against the wall, clasping his hands together, stopping the urge to start caressing, kneading, biting the gorgeous curve immediately. He needs to decide his design. 

Zuko deserves a bit of torture for that prank he pulled. Sokka keeps talking.

“So tell me, in the last month, how many times did you dream about it? My hand slapping your ass?” If his own daydreams are anything to go by, their last encounter gave Zuko also a month’s worth of jerking-off ammunition.

“Every day,” Zuko admits quietly, not even trying to be coy about it.

“Did you remember it during those boring meetings, ordering a break so you can go away and wank, thinking about how your skin pricked, how hot it was?” Sokka certainly did. 

Zuko’s breathing quickens. “Sometimes,” he admits.

“Me too. I closed my eyes, and I kept seeing your flesh trembling helplessly under my palm, the skin turning first just a little pink, then bright red, bleeding into purple. I kept hearing your moans and cries. Because even when you are not there, you drive me crazy, Zuko,” Sokka continues and Zuko’s eyelids grow heavy, his cheeks are flushed. “So tell me Zuko, is that why you are here? Because you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” The reply is as breathless as Sokka feels. Zuko arches his back, lifting his ass in silent invitation. 

Sokka can’t hold back anymore. He wants to claim the flesh offered to him. “Then count for me,” he orders. 

He tries to play it differently this time. There is no playful warm-up. Straight to business. The first smack connects on with the center of Zuko’s right buttcheek, leaving a pink imprint in its wake. 

“One,” Zuko gasps slightly. 

Sokka raises his hand again. Zuko clenches the left side of his butt in anticipation. Sokka knows he’s expecting the next blow there, but he keeps his attention on the same place on the right, the second blow landing right under the first, increasing the flush of the skin. 

“Two.” Zuko curves his back more, wiggling a bit his left side.

The third blow is harder, creeping closer to the sensitive spot of his upper thigh. Zuko hisses.

“Three.” He sounds a bit frustrated. His right cheek is now bright pink, but the left side is still untouched. 

Sokka pauses. “You are not the only one that can play cruel little games, Zuko. I can do the same. How about I warm you up so one side is all beautiful hot red, and the other waits there untouched? Imagine going to the gala dinner, with such a frustrating ache. Making polite smalltalk to all the dignitaries gathered, while all you want is lean over a table and beg me to spank you properly all the way until your skin is raw and pliable.”

Zuko groans with turned-on impatience. Sokka steps closer, delivering a small, gentle smack at the underside of Zuko’s butt, right on the scrotum. Sokka feels his balls jiggle slightly. Zuko moans in response. 

“I didn’t hear you count,” Sokka says, repeating the movement. Zuko moans again loudly. 

“I see, you are trying to cheat, Zuko.” Sokka scolds him. “Are you saying you want harder?”

The next slap is sharp, hitting the same sensitive spot. Zuko yelps.

“Five,” he says between gritted teeth.

Sokka moves back on the right side, delivering three hard blows working his way up this time. 

“Six...ouch...seven...aaaah….eight,” pants Zuko between yelps. 

Sokka stops again admiring his handiwork. The right cheek is completely red now, while the left part is still pristine, waiting for Sokka’s attention. “I wonder if they started the last act of the opera. I think you need to head back Zuko. How about we finish this after dinner when there is no rush?”

“Sokka…” Zuko lets out a half groan-half wimper. “Please.”

“I’m listening,” Sokka says magnanimously. “If you tell me exactly what you want, I’ll consider it.”

Zuko swallows. “Spank me. Properly. On both sides,” he begs quietly and Sokka feels a jolt of triumph that he finally says what he wants in words.

“Sure thing. Keep counting, love.”

He flexes his biceps and brings his hand down in a hard blow on the left cheek leaving a red print. 

Zuko yells, “Nine.” There is both pain and relief in his voice. 

Sokka speeds up the blows, spreading them more equitably all over Zuko’s bottom, until it’s bright red everywhere like the curtains in the Fire Nation palace. Zuko keeps counting, sounding more breathless with each blow. When they reach twenty, Sokka stops and stands behind Zuko. With one hand, he caresses the raw, heated butt-cheeks, while he closes his other hand over Zuko’s length, pumping it in a steady rhythm. 

“So hot, Zuko,” he leans over Zuko who’s resting his head on the desk, his unscarred cheek turned to the side. “How am I ever going to work at this desk without seeing you spread over it, all undone.”

Zuko’s hips gyrate against Sokka’s hand as if he can’t make up his mind whether he wants more friction on his cock or on his ass.

Like he’s not completely on the edge yet. Sokka gauges his wigliness.

“How about four more? Does that sound like a fair number?” he asks.

“Four sounds good,” Zuko agrees greedily, pushing his ass back towards Sokka.

“Keep counting.” Sokka keeps his right hand wrapped around Zuko’s cock, while he brings his left hand with a hard smack on the enticingly curving flesh again. He can feel Zuko’s cock responding to the blow by twitching hungrily.

“Twenty-one,” Zuko counts as soon as he catches his breath. 

Sokka pats lightly the skin blooming into purple. He pumps Zuko’s cock in a steady rhythm. 

The next slap is harder, Zuko’s muscles are trembling helplessly under the impact. He gave up trying to clench them about halfway through. 

Zuko cries out in a mix of pleasure and pain. His cock thickens in Sokka’s hand, precum dripping on Sokka’s fingers.

“Twenty-two,” he pants. 

Sokka goes back to caressing him slowly, working his way all around the hot flesh, from the top of the curve all the way to Zuko’s scrotum. 

The next hit is more of a sharp smack targeting the left buttcheek, that still looks a bit paler. 

“Twenty-three.” Zuko is bucking against Sokka’s palm faster now. His movements are jerkier, like he’s almost there. 

Sokka cools down the hot skin with his tongue, grazing, biting it playfully with his teeth. Zuko moans and pants under the double assault of his tongue and hands. His eyes squeeze shut, he bits his lips and Sokka knows he’s close. Very close. 

As the last blow comes down, Zuko pushes into Sokka’s hand and he can feel the hot wetness of his orgasm, as he comes with a loud cry. 

Sokka pulls him in his lap and Zuko buries his face against Sokka’s shoulders until the aftershocks subside. Sokka feels his heartbeat hammering against his in perfect sync, like a double drum. He rubs Zuko’s back soothingly. 

“You were magnificent, Zuko. So gorgeously open, so brave,” Sokka murmurs.

Zuko finally raises his eyes to meet Sokka’s gaze. Gold sparkles radiating love and pure joy, his lips curve into a shy smile. 

“Twenty-four,” he says and kisses Sokka on the lips. His mouth is hot and pliant. When their lips part, he rests his forehead against Sokka’s for a long moment. 

He gets up with a heavy sigh. “I really need to go now,” he says ruefully. He pulls up his pants, grabs his swords and leaps through the window. 

“See you after the dinner,” Sokka yells after him as he disappears leaping across the rooftops. 

“Can’t wait…” his laughter rings from far away.


	3. Prisoner

“How did it go?” Zuko whispers anxiously when he finally catches Sokka during the lunch-break of the conference.

Sokka shrugs. Having to tell his dad that he is not planning to move back home or take over the chief position was not easy, but had to be done. 

“It is never easy to disappoint someone you love.” But sometimes there is no other choice. Zuko and Aang need him here in Republic City to help the place through its teething problems. But it’s also a personal choice - this thriving, changing, constantly moving city is more like him than the igloos at home, frozen in time. He’ll never forget where he came from, but he feels like he belongs to this new world they are building together. “You know… he wasn’t happy, but well, he understood and it’s my decision.” 

Zuko ponders this, playing with a red silk rope that must have come loose from his outfit, twisting it mindlessly around his wrist. “You are lucky to have him.” His voice is quiet, but full of emotion. Envy, awe, wonder. 

“I know,” Sokka nods. He's definitely won on the father roulette. “But he taught me that a warrior always knows where he’s needed. And I’m needed here.”

“You are,” admits Zuko with a smile, still twisting the cord around his wrists and fingers. “I don’t think we could do this without you. I couldn’t do this without you,” he adds shyly, keeping his gaze on his hands. Sokka wants to hug him, but they are in plain sight of all the conference participants, so he keeps his eyes fixed ahead. On Zuko's hands.The sight of the red rope contrasted against the pale skin stirs something in Sokka. It’s not a new idea, more like a flight of fancy, a recurring dream. 

“You know nothing about knots,” Sokka pulls the rope out of Zuko’s hand and starts wrapping it around Zuko’s wrists. Tighter than a bracelet, but not yet painful. There is a trick to these things.

“I know knots,” protests Zuko as he pulls his finger across the rope.

“You know like three knots,” chuckles Sokka remembering their fishing adventures back around the Western Air Temple. Zuko tried, but never actually managed his way around a fishing net. 

“Four.”

Sokka snorts. “A bow doesn’t count, Zuko. Just to make a decent fishing net, you need like 20 different knots - you should remember.” 

“I do remember,” Zuko grimaces. Then his eyes shimmer playfully. “I also remember that even knowing 20 different fancy knots, you never managed to tie me up properly.”

Zuko’s playfulness is a hopeful sign. Sokka puts another careful foot forward to pitching his idea.

“That is a sore point. I didn’t know back then how jerkbenders were cheaters and all. It’s kind of a pity we never got to make you a prisoner properly.” 

“Well, you do get points for trying.” 

“Maybe I could try again and get even more points...” Sokka whispers, making sure that the guards can’t hear him. There is a subtle blush on Zuko’s cheeks. Well, at least he doesn't hate the idea.

“Maybe…” There is uncertainty in his voice, but from the arch of his good eyebrow, Sokka can tell he’s intrigued. 

Before he could get full certainty, Aang interrupts their discussion and drags Zuko away to meet some important professor. Sokka doesn’t see him until the meeting starts again. He smiles when the rope bracelet peeking out from under the wide sleeves of the Fire Lord robe.

-0-

It’s been three days since Sokka’s return before Zuko gets the chance to spend the night with him properly. When he enters Sokka’s flat, the first thing he sees are coils of blue rope. He should have known. Sokka never let an idea go to waste. Whether it is a good or terrible idea, there's always follow through. He’s not entirely sure which category this one falls into.

“What is this?” he points to the ropes anyway.

“I’m taking you prisoner, if you are still up for it,” Sokka kisses him on the lips with a bright smile. “Then maybe I get to spend some quality time with you - having your full attention.”

Zuko runs his fingers over the rope. It’s good quality hemp that feels soft to the touch. 

“Isn’t this much rope an over-kill? I thought you’d tie my wrist or something,” he asks.

“If you want to be unimaginative,” Sokka pouts. It sounds like an insult or a challenge. Zuko knows this game but indulges Sokka anyways be pretending to be offended. “I think this will be more fun though.” 

Zuko is still not fully convinced, but Sokka’s enthusiasm is infectious. 

“What do I have to do?” 

“I think you’ll find it relaxing. You’ll just have to follow my lead.” Sokka puts his arm around Zuko’s shoulder. “So if at any time you are uncomfortable or you want me to stop, just say the safe-word.”

“Safe-word? Or I could just burn through the rope.” Zuko curls his lips into a cocky smile reminding Sokka that this is only as real as Zuko lets it be.

“Maybe," he counters with a cocky smile of his own. "Anyways. Safeword is...cabbages. Remember?”

“Cabbages?” Zuko counters. It sounds convoluted.

"It should be something you wouldn’t say otherwise,” Sokka explains. 

Oh, in that case, yes, cabbages is a word Zuko doesn’t use much during sex.

“So ready?” Sokka pokes him.

“Yeah, sure.”

Sokka stands up creating a distance between them. He walks to the window, looks out and when he turns back, his face is hard like it used to be before they were friends. Zuko shudders. He doesn't like to remember those times. He knows they've forgiven him but he doesn't know if he's ever really forgiven himself.

“Undress,” comes the short order.

Zuko peels off his clothes nervously. Sokka has seen in him a million times in various stages of undress, but he still feels strangely self-conscious. The whole situation is different. Sokka remains fully clad and instead of the usual smiles and caresses, he gazes impassively at Zuko’s body. It makes him feel more naked. Exposed, vulnerable, but also turned on. His cock is already standing alert.

“Good. This may take a little time, so just relax.” 

Zuko lets out a deep breath, reminding himself that this is just a game.

Sokka takes the first piece of rope looping it around his elbow. He wraps a long piece across Zuko’s chest, above his nipples and loops it around Zuko’s biceps. Zuko slightly shivers as the rope touches his bare skin. It feels strange, but not uncomfortable.

“Is this ok?” asks Sokka and puts a finger between the rope and Zuko’s skin to check for tightness. 

“It’s fine,” Zuko replies. The rope that secures his upper arm to his torso doesn’t feel threatening, more like a solid point, something to hold him, to make him feel real and grounded.

Sokka loops the rope a few times across Zuko’s chest and arms again, this time under the nipple. He slides it through knots on the side that Zuko recognizes as double fishermen loops, but would not be able to tie. All it would take is a flick of his wrist to burn through it if he wanted to. He doesn't want to. He wants to know what Sokka planned for him. 

“Now I’m going to do your wrists.” Sokka bends Zuko’s elbows behind the back, which reminds Zuko of the time in The Boiling Rock when he first let Sokka make him a prisoner. He trusted him implicitly even back then, even if it was unclear at the time why. The motion makes Zuko’s back arch slightly. 

“Hold it like this,” commands Sokka.

Zuko rests his elbows on the opposite hands, while Sokka ties his wrists together on top of each other. Then he loops the wrist-tie into the rope tied around his chest, forming a bigger knot in the middle of his back behind his shoulder blades. The pressure on his spine feels nice, but the tension in his shoulder from the twisted position is a bit painful. As Sokka pulls the knot tighter, Zuko’s upper body arches even more. 

“Do you want to see it?” Sokka brings out a mirror and shows his handiwork to Zuko. It looks almost like a decorative frame meant to accentuate Zuko’s lean and muscled body.

“It looks good.” It sounds silly and he would bury his face in his hands if he could. But he can’t because his hands are tied.

Sokka chuckles, falling out of his role for a moment. 

He lets out a breath and schools his features. “I’ll do your legs next. You will kneel and sit on your heels," he instructs.

Zuko feels a little clumsy and off balance with his arms tied behind his back, but he manages to kneel on the futon as instructed. 

Sokka loosely loops around the rope his thigh and his calf, first close to the knee, then around the upper thigh, close to Zuko’s crotch and his ankles. He pulls the rope into place and ties the knots on the outside part of the leg. 

Zuko tucks his other leg under his heels and Sokka repeats the same on the other side, his hands lightly brushing against Zuko’s balls as he works which sends warm tingles all around Zuko’s body. Sokka’s touch is otherwise matter-of-fact; as if Zuko was one of those complicated machines he likes to fiddle with. It’s strangely arousing to be treated this way. Zuko tries not to give away how much all this affects him, but the need is building inside him to be touched. He wriggles slightly against his ties. The rope digs into his skin. It’s not uncomfortable, but certainly restricting. 

Sokka takes Zuko’s long hair and ties it also with rope, just under the nape of his neck, connecting it into the main knot, forcing Zuko to lift his chin slightly. 

He raises the mirror again and Zuko watches himself, the picture of a prisoner, exposed and submitted to the whims of his guard. His skin and body is all a-tingle. 

“I could also gag you, if you want,” Sokka holds up a ball, tied to a strap.

Zuko panics, “No.”

“Is this an I’m-playing-prisoner no or a cabbage no?” asks Sokka.

It takes Zuko a moment to catch his meaning. “A cabbage no.”

Sokka nods and tosses the ball to the corner. “I have better uses for your lips anyways.” He pulls his thumb across Zuko’s lips softly. Zuko shivers under his touch.

“But I think we are definitely missing a blindfold,” Sokka produces a silk scarf and pulls it lightly against Zuko’s neck. 

When Zuko nods his agreement, Sokka ties the scarf over his eyes. The darkness makes Zuko more aware of the rope; how it restricts his movement more than he thought at first, how the knots are working on his pressure points. 

“There, it’s beautiful. You are my prisoner now and I can do anything I want with you,” Sokka says in a husky voice that sets Zuko’s core on fire. His cock hardens even more, eager for Sokka’s touch. He waits and waits, but there is no touch of any form. It’s nerve-wrecking.

With his hands tied back, Zuko can’t relieve the tension of his crotch. He tries to rub his ass and cock against the sheet of the mattress, to build some friction, conscious of what a ridiculous sight he must be. 

Sokka is still somewhere out of reach, talking. “Look at you. Such a shameless slut. Rubbing yourself against the bed. Tell me, Zuko, is your ass this impatient?”

“Sokka, please…” his voice comes out like a whimper.

The floor creaks as Sokka steps closer and Zuko can feel the touch of a loose rope. It is soft as Sokka slides it around his neck, down his back, caressing the sensitive crease between his butt-cheeks. Zuko inhales sharply from the tantalizingly light tickle. 

Sokka withdraws the rope. Zuko protests loudly the loss of sensation. The response comes in the form of a sharp slap of the rope against his ass. It feels very different from the normal spanking. It’s less personal, more distant. But the pain is still sharp and clean and delicious. Zuko moans.

“You like this too, don’t you? I thought you might,” Sokka says in a low voice as he lands another lick of the rope across Zuko’s butt-cheeks, followed by more rapid lashes, some of which land on his back. Zuko tenses his body against the ropes. Every time he wiggles, the ropes feel tighter, blood pooling around the tight knots. He starts to feel lightheaded. 

“So tell me, which one do you like more, the rope or my hand?” Sokka asks.

It’s not even a competition. The rope is a new, interesting sensation, but Zuko craves Sokka’s hand. It’s more intimate. It’s more precise. “Your hand.”

“Well, if you want that, you’ll have to work for it.”

Sokka grabs his hair. Zuko’s cock twitches with desire as he feels the strong fingers against his scalp. Something brushes against his lips. It’s velvety skin and Zuko breathes in the familiar smell of Sokka’s arousal. He opens his mouth obediently. Sokka shoves his cock inside all the way to the back of Zuko’s throat. Zuko gags, caught by surprise. Sokka pulls back a little, and Zuko uses the reprieve to breathe and relax his esophagus, so when Sokka pushes forward again, he can take it in deep. Sokka moans. Zuko tries to work a rhythm, but between the rope, Sokka’s hand on his head and the cock between his lips, he has not much choice than try to follow Sokka’s lead as he fucks his mouth. Just as he feels the telltale thickening of Sokka’s shaft, he pulls back. 

He caresses Zuko’s throat right under the chin. “You’ve been good. I’ll give you what you want.”

Sokka grabs the knot in the middle of his shoulder blades and pushes Zuko over. He cannot do anything other than fall face down on the futon, arms still tied, his ass in the air, together with his tied-up ankles. The change of position starts stimulating other parts of his muscles and Zuko feels like he’s going to explode if Sokka doesn’t do something. He groans impatiently. 

Sokka finally puts his hand on his ass and it feels so satisfying that Zuko almost purrs. Precum is dripping from the tip of his cock onto his inverted lower abdomen as he waits for more. 

“How is everything?” Sokka whispers in his ears, breathing a small kiss on the tip of his earlobe. “Not too tight?”

“Fine,” Zuko says impatiently. He wants Sokka to give it to him. 

“Only fine?” Sokka chuckles. “I’m sure we can do better than that. Mind-blowing is the effect we are going for. How about warming up your ass?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” Zuko croaks, his throat dry. 

Sokka slaps him - the blow is not as hard as he normally does, but with his movement restricted, it feels sharper as Zuko tenses his muscles against the rope that keeps him firmly in place. Sokka caresses the hot skin and Zuko relaxes against his touch. Sokka pulls back his hand and another hit falls on Zuko’s butt-cheek, followed by more slow strokes and caresses. They fall into a rhythm as Zuko keeps tensing against the rope and relaxing again. His body is beading with sweat. Zuko’s entire focus is limited to Sokka’s hands on his ass and the rope digging into his skin. He’s completely helpless and it makes his core liquidy hot with arousal. 

Sokka replaces his hand on Zuko’s ass with a wet tongue as he licks and sucks on the hot skin, working his way to Zuko’s scrotum. He hisses as Sokka sucks in his balls, swirling his tongue over the sensitive skin. Then he slides his tongue up the crack between his butt-cheeks. He spreads the flesh with his hands leaving Zuko’s puckered hole exposed. He blows on the heated skin before diving in and Zuko whimpers and shivers from the sensation. Finally the tip of Sokka’s tongue is teasing the tight, sensitive hole and Zuko thinks he may lose his mind, because it’s simultaneously so amazingly intense and so frustratingly little. He trembles against the rope, his muscles sore, worse than after an exhausting training session. Sokka’s tongue dives in deeper, and Zuko would push back if he could, but the knots keep him in place, unable to do anything but take whatever Sokka decides to give him. 

“My cock may explode if you don’t do something soon,” he complains.

“Are you suggesting that this is nothing?” Sokka asks teasingly, as he replaces his tongue with a finger, pushing inside Zuko’s butt. 

“Aaah,” is all Zuko can say as Sokka pushes in a second then a third finger, looking for that sweet spot that makes Zuko lose his mind every time. Zuko yells when he finds it, his cock throbbing painfully against his lower abdomen. 

“For fuck’s sake, Sokka. Let me come,” he whimpers.

“I was going to make you come, but since you are a mouthy, disrespectful, jerkbending prisoner, you’ll just have to wait your turn,” Sokka says on a cold voice that makes Zuko freeze inside a little bit even if he knows this is just a game. 

Sokka spreads Zuko’s butt-cheeks again and pushes his cock inside. Zuko’s knees and thighs burn uncomfortably as Sokka pumps against him, his body pinned completely to the mattress. He desperately wants to collapse against the bed, but the rope keeps him in position. He hears distant moans and it takes him a moment to realize that they are his own. They are moans of pain and pleasure as the sensations roll in waves. Discomfort starts to become the most prominent feeling when luckily, Sokka comes with a loud yell, gripping the knot between Zuko’s shoulder-blades. He goes limp on Zuko’s back, his ragged breaths and thumping heartbeats echoing against Zuko’s ribcage. 

Zuko growls with frustration as he waits for Sokka to regain his composure. When his breathing returns to normal, Sokka grabs Zuko and turns him, so he’s lying on his side, giving his sore knees, thighs, neck and forehead reprieve. Zuko screams in hoarse, animal sounds as wet lips finally, _fucking finally_ engulf his swollen, throbbing cock. He opens his thighs as much as the rope will allow to give more access to Sokka who sucks and swirls his tongue around. Zuko wants to push, but all he can do is clench his butt-muscles. Sokka slides his lips down Zuko’s shaft at a leisurely pace, and Zuko moans and whimpers because he’s so close, _so fucking close,_ but he needs just a little bit more. 

“Sokka, please…” he begs, his throat dry like sandpaper. “Let me come…”

Sokka grabs the base of his shaft in a firm grasp and increases the pressure of his lips, dictating a steady rhythm. That’s all it takes, Zuko screams as he comes in a red, hot explosion, releasing the tension in his brain and his cock. It’s mind-blowing as promised. But the rest of his muscles are still tense, as the rope feels now unbearably tight. Sokka removes the blindfold, but Zuko’s vision remains a blur. Whether it’s tears or just sweat - he has no idea. It doesn't matter.

“Sokka...” he pleads exhausted, at the limit of his endurance, but his brain can’t form coherent words anymore. 

Sokka pulls him in his lap and starts taking apart the rope with impossibly swift fingers, loosening the knots. Zuko is still unable to move, all his limbs are pins and needles, his muscles sore. So he just collapses against Sokka, knowing he'll hold him together.

Once the knots are untied, Sokka leaves the bed and returns with a cup and a small vial. He holds the cup to Zuko’s lips and he drinks eagerly, realizing suddenly how thirsty he was. Sokka puts the cup on the floor and massages Zuko’s arms and legs with scented oil until the feeling starts to come back. With normal blood-circulation, his light-headedness also disappears and his vision clears out. He still feels exhausted, so he stays snuggled against Sokka’s lap.

Sokka runs his fingers across the pink-red rope-marks which criss-cross Zuko’s skin in a delicate pattern. “This means you are mine. Only mine.”

“I like being yours,” Zuko responds with a contented smile. 

Sokka spoons against him and wraps his arms around Zuko. “I told you it was going to be fun,” he murmurs. “If I could, I’d take you prisoner and keep you here forever, hidden from the world. I would tie you up and spank you and fuck you a different way every day.”

“Sounds nice,” Zuko sighs. “Though maybe it’s a bit intense for every day,” he adds with a smirk. “But definitely a keeper.”

“I’m glad we are in agreement,” Sokka bites into his earlobe playfully. “Are you hungry? I got those spicy dumplings you like so much.”

Spicy dumpling sounds good. Maybe not quite as good as sleep. 

“Sure,” Zuko mutters before he closes his eyes and slips into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> While it’s tagged PwP, I’m more interested in the Zukka relationship dynamics and the role of trust and consent to get into more risky areas of sexual play. I tagged it light BDSM, to be safe, even if it falls on a very different part of the spectrum than the 50 shades-types of fics - and it's not a direction I'd ever go with this. 
> 
> I'm kind of liking this verse, so I may add more scenes in the future. 
> 
> It is my very first M/M smut fic, so feedback is much appreciated.


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